Midnight Savior
by Nutzkie
Summary: Sometimes, even a hero needs saving. ONESHOT


**Usual Legal Junk:**

We all know the story by now: I don't own Kim Possible or anything associated with her. If I did, then in all honesty I probably wouldn't be sitting here writing fan fiction, but that's neither here nor there. Kim and company belong to the Walt Disney Company, and whatever megalithic corporate entity happens to, in turn, own them this week. I'm making no money off of this, whatsoever. (Darn!)

* * *

**- Midnight Savior -**

It was hot.

Very hot.

So hot that it put one's thoughts to the very air itself being on fire, or to being trapped inside of a blast furnace. The heat was downright oppressive in its intensity, rippling the air, distorting vision and consciousness alike with its inescapable and omnipresent strength. Radiating down from the heavens it mercilessly ground its subjects into the dusty soil, which in turn reflected the heat back upwards so that these victims were thoroughly baked from both top and bottom. It was a truly brutal landscape that many would undoubtedly describe as "Hell on Earth"…

_Except this wasn't Earth._

Scorched by twin suns and buffeted by their tidal forces, the desert planet of Lowardia was a place that resisted life. Everything that grew, flew, walked, crawled or slithered across its broiling surface struggled for survival. Every scrap of food, every drop of precious water, every breath of blistering air had to be fought for, tooth-and-nail. The creatures of this world were a brutish lot, forced by circumstance into a never-ending battle for existence, their daily sustenance scratched and clawed from the clutches of an unforgiving and ruthless land.

Given these circumstances, it is not surprising that such a world would give rise to an aggressive and ruthless species, whose culture glorified conquest and the hunt. Born of harshness and hardship, and hardened within the fiery forge of their planet's own atmosphere, the Lowardians had long-since grown to become the dominant force within their quadrant. They were the scourge of the galaxy by most accounts, their hulking green forms striking fear into the hearts of all those who knew of their power and malevolence.

None of which was lost on the current target of their relentless bloodlust.

For Kim Possible, the great teen hero and savior of the world, the sitch was beyond the realm of belief. She kept telling herself, over and over again, that the past few days were in no way real: That it was all just part of some elaborate nightmare… One that she would be awaking from at any moment.

Yet no matter how strongly she willed herself to wake, the scene spread out before her never changed. She was being led, no… make that _dragged_ through an angry, raucous crowd of nine-foot-tall monsters, shackled hand and foot in heavy chains, the tattered remains of her graduation gown barely enough to conceal her nakedness. Jeers and taunts rained down on her from all sides as she stumbled through the choking dust, and while she could not understand the language in which this deluge of insults was being spoken, the tone was enough to let the overall meaning be known to her. Blinking back stinging tears, she tried desperately to remember the events that had led her to this hellish place.

The details were still sketchy and vague in her mind, and she struggled to make sense of it all. The last thing she clearly remembered was the walker drones being felled by product of Drakken's super-hypo-pollen-whatchamacallit. Beyond that, her memories were only momentary flashes at best: Fleeting glimpses of people and landmarks.

She could recall the presence Warhok and Warmonga, although exact details of the scene eluded her. She vaguely recalled a shattered urban skyline in the background, and she seemed to remember the aliens being challenged in some way by Ron.

Her entire body cringed with this thought, for as hard and as often as she had tried in the past few days, she could not for the life of her remember what had happened to her partner and lifelong friend. Was he all right? Had he been hurt? Had he not survived the final confrontation with the green pair? She couldn't imagine these hideous creatures taking her without Ron putting up one heck of a fight. But still, even forgetting that he would have been outnumbered two-to-one, the sheer size difference between the Lowardians and an average, teen-aged earth boy was striking to say the least. He most likely had fought valiantly, and died quickly, and that thought alone caused her far more grief than her current predicament ever could.

Another sharp tug on her chains brought her attention forward, directing her emerald gaze toward the large, ceremonial platform that dominated the center of the great public square where the crowd had assembled. She swallowed hard, seeing the smiling vestiges of the hated duo perched smugly atop its surface, and knowing the fate that awaited her there.

Rage boiled up within her as she thought about everything these wretched beings had done. Because of them, her world, the world she had saved on more occasions than she could count, was now most likely a smoldering, battle-scarred wasteland, existing under the oppressive heel of a Lowardian boot. Her family and all those whom she cared about were either dead, or living as slaves of their new Lowardian masters. These intergalactic thugs had destroyed everything and everyone she had ever loved or cared about, and all of it to settle a petty grudge with her personally.

The fire of vengeance surged through her veins as she thought about the untold suffering and destruction that these foul beings had brought upon so many worlds. They couldn't just get away with it. They _wouldn't_ get away with it! She was Kim Possible, damn it! She could do anything, and she would make these miserable creatures pay for every one of their innumerable sins.

But any such thoughts of heroism were quickly extinguished by cold, hard reality. Depravation of sleep and food throughout her brief captivity had taken their toll, as had the physical abuse she had suffered at the hands of her captors, leaving her a hollow, weakened shell: A faint shadow of the heroine she once was. She fought back mightily against her chains, but quickly weakened before resigning herself to stark reality of the situation. Warhok and Warmonga had done what dozens of egomaniacal madmen and lunatic super villains had been unable to do: They had defeated Kim Possible… Totally and completely.

Ascending the steps leading to the platform, she became painfully aware that her life expectancy could now be measured in minutes. The frenzy of the crowd below was now reaching a fever pitch, chanting… shouting… screaming for blood. They had come from across the empire to witness the pageantry and spectacle that was the execution of any individual who dared challenge the overwhelming superiority of Lowardian rule. This was an example and a statement to all those lesser worlds that may harbor thoughts of rebellion, and the bloodlust of the crowd this day would not be denied.

The armed escort came to an abrupt halt, and Kim suddenly found herself standing just a few feet away from the implement of her own execution. On the whole, it bore a certain resemblance to the French Guillotine, but darker and more menacing in its appearance, if such a thing was even possible.

The construction of the device was heavier with more bracing than what she remembered seeing in books: Likely an engineering response to the immense size of the individuals ordinarily put to death beneath its blade. The blade itself was symmetrical and slightly curved along its length, rather than angled as with its earth-bound counterpart, indicating that this machine was intended to smash and gouge its way through its victim's neck, rather than making a clean slice.

Kim could only stand transfixed, staring at the medieval-looking contraption as her entire life flashed before her tear-filled eyes. Only eighteen years old and she had already seen and done so much. She had traveled the world, saving countless people, and had experienced more excitement and adventure in the process than most people would experience in their entire lifetimes. She had seen wonders that many can only dream about, she had associated with the wealthy and powerful… She had made a difference.

But even still, she was only eighteen; a newly minted high school graduate, and she had so much left to live for. She was young and healthy, with an entire lifetime ahead of her, and she was in love. How could it all come to a crashing end on this accursed machine, in this nightmarish place?

Sensing the turmoil within her soon-to-be newest trophy, Warmonga leaned forward with a malicious smile and whispered coarsely into Kim's ear…

"You may be fond of the belief that you are 'all that,' but I can assure you most certainly that you are not."

Then, with a snap of her scaled fingers, the green huntress briskly turned and strode to Warhok's side. An instant later, two sets of oversized hands roughly grabbed Kim's lithe frame and unceremoniously dumped her into the machine. The same large hands moved with surprising speed and deftness to restrain her further, strapping her into the device so that she was completely immobilized, flat on her back, staring straight up at the menacing blade. It appeared that unlike their earthly counterparts, these sick bastards preferred their victims to see their fate coming, right up until the very last instant.

Squinting blindly through tears into the searing sky, her entire body tensed as she gave one last valiant, yet futile struggle against her bonds. She strained every fiber and muscle that she had, expending what little strength she had left in the process, grunting and groaning as she thrashed feebly about. It was a heroic effort, but the fight within her dissipated quickly, and she settled back down into her restraints, too exhausted to even move a muscle. It was all she could do at this point to simply lie there, softly weeping for everything that had been lost.

If there was any consolation to be found in all of this, she thought strangely, it was that in a few moments time, she would be with Ron again, and they would be together for all eternity. It was a thought that for the first time in nearly a week brought a smile to her face.

But the smile quickly faded as unforgiving reality once again intruded into her consciousness. After all that she had done… After everyone that she had helped… With a future promising so much joy and potential spread out before her, it would all be ripped away. None of it meant anything in the long run. The world she had loved and saved was now destroyed, and she herself was destined to adorn the wall of a grotesque trophy room, light years away from everything she had ever known. This was it: Game over… The end.

The noise of the crowd intensified to a deafening roar as the executioner raised his grotesque, green hand to give the signal. Kim found that she could only close her eyes and swallow hard, waiting for the blade to drop, and silently pray that it would be over quickly and painlessly. Reflexively… almost subconsciously… she whispered Ron's name.

Then, even above the roar the crowd, she heard the faint metallic "click" of the blade releasing from its mechanism…

The unrelenting roar was suddenly replaced within her ears by the sound of her own scream.

* * *

Emerald green eyes snapped open, their owner bolting upright in bed, gasping for air and bathed in a sheen of cold sweat. The residual echo of a scream reverberated through the empty house, even as a sleep-addled mind raced desperately, taking in its surroundings and assuring itself that all was indeed as it should be.

Shaking violently, Kim grabbed the blankets from around her and clutched them tightly against herself, even as sweat continued to pour from her body, soaking said blankets clean through. Her heart pounded away inside of her chest like a jackhammer and her breaths came in ragged gasps as cold chills worked their way up and down her spine like vibrations traveling along a set of guitar strings. She blinked repeatedly; clearing away tears that she was unaware she had shed, surveying the room to confirm that she was, in fact, safe and sound.

The room was still somewhat unfamiliar to her, but that was to be expected. The Possible family home had been rebuilt quickly following the failed Lowardian invasion. (One of the fringe benefits of the Tweebs' destructive hobbies was a close relationship with nearly every contractor in town.) But still, it was not the same house that she had grown up in, and there were subtle differences that she was still getting used to. The smell of fresh paint permeated every room, the stairs leading to her attic loft didn't creak like they used to, and somehow the dimensions of the room itself seemed just a little off, although she was unable to pinpoint exactly where or how.

But setting such differences aside, however, it was still her room, and she quickly confirmed that she was right where she should be: Safely at home, in her own bed, wearing the familiar sweat pants and camisole top that she always slept in… Not a shredded graduation robe on an alien planet, strapped into a death device.

But this knowledge did little to calm her nerves or slow her breathing. The dream had shaken her, and shaken her _badly._ This was the sort of shock where one didn't simply roll over and go back to sleep. This was "serious scary."

It had all seemed so real, she thought to herself as she drew her knees up to her chest and began to slowly rock back and forth, still trembling with fright. She could feel the heat… she could smell the odors… she even still felt that she could taste the dry, choking dust in her throat. The dream had been so realistic that she felt she could have reached out and touched it, and it nearly could have done the same to her.

But it wasn't the realism of it all that made the experience so terrifying, she quickly concluded. No, it was the fact that it so very nearly could have been real… that it _would_ have been real… if not for the actions of one person. The one person in the world who stood up to the alien menace and ended the threat, once and for all. The one person who was willing to put it all on the line, just to pull her out of danger's path.

And it was the voice of that one person that she needed to hear more than anything else right now.

Fumbling for the phone on her nightstand, she had a momentary flash of a hyper-excited Ron calling her at three in the morning to confirm that she was not, in fact, one of Drakken's synthodrones. The irony of it all forced a momentary smile to cross her face, and made her feel a little better about waking him in the middle of the night.

"C'mon! Pick up, pick up, pick up!" she chanted as the phone on the other end began to ring. As one hand pressed the receiver tightly to the side of her face, the other pressed itself tightly against her chest, feeling the beating of her heart, which was still pounding out a staccato cadence.

"Mmmmpf… Whoever this is, it had better not be a telemarketer." A painfully groggy voice came over the line. In the background, one could hear the annoyed chattering of Rufus.

"Ron, it's me."

"KP? Is everything all right?" Ron asked, suddenly sounding much more awake. Even with only three words spoken so far, he could sense the stress in his girlfriend's voice, and that alone was enough to bring him into "mission mode."

"Uh, yeah… Everything's fine." Kim lied, unconvincingly.

"You called me at two A-M to tell me that everything's fine?" Ron asked, disbelievingly.

"Well, maybe things aren't 'fine' entirely." Kim hedged, nervously rubbing the back of her neck. "They're somewhat less than fine, actually. Not like really bad or anything, but somewhere between that and…"

"Uh, not to be rude or anything, but it's really early right now, so if you don't mind calling back when you feel like making sense…"

"I had a nightmare, Ron!" Kim blurted out, a little more forcefully than she had intended. The sound of her voice was the only thing keeping her frayed nerves under control right now, and she didn't want to run the chance of him hanging up right now.

There was several seconds of awkward silence.

"Oh." Was Ron's simple reply.

"Yeah." Kim answered back.

"Bad?"

"Ferociously bad."

"I see."

"Yeah."

"You want to talk about it?"

"Well… It's just… Yeah, kinda… But, I thought… Maybe…" She was hesitant to say what she was really thinking right now. It seemed so ferociously weird, not to mention borderline inappropriate, but it was what she was feeling and she quickly concluded that full-disclosure was the best course of action.

"Look… Can you come over?" she suddenly blurted out.

"Uh, you mean like, in the morning?"

"I mean like _now."_

"Oh… ahhh… Well I don't… uhhhhhh…" Ron nervously stammered.

"I just really need to see you right now."

"Wha… Whoa there, KP." Ron said, finally managing to regain his voice. "Are you sure that this is a good idea? I mean, sure, my folks are at that actuarial convention in Denver this week, but your fam…"

"Dad's doing some consulting work down at Cape Canaveral this week and mom's at a neurology conference in Baltimore." Kim informed.

"What about your brothers?"

"Science camp."

"Well, I still don't know…"

"Ron?"

"Yeah, KP."

"_Please?"_

That one word stopped Ron Stoppable dead in his tracks. It wasn't just the word that carried such weight so much as it was the tone. There was a current of fear running through it: an audible sense of desperation that dispelled any doubts about what the proper course of action might be. His lady needed him right now, and he was not going to let her down.

"I'll be right over." He stated, matter-of-factly.

* * *

The sound of the bell had barely ceased when the bright red door flew open and a young man suddenly found himself swept up in a bone-crushing hug. Struggling to ignore what he thought was the sound of cracking ribs; Ron slid his arms up around his girlfriend's back to reciprocate the gesture. He took note of how her lithe form was trembling violently, like a leaf in a hurricane, and quickly surmised that whatever she had dreamt had shaken her to her very core.

After several moments of standing in the open doorway, he decided that more comfortable accommodations were in order. Clumsily, but still gently, he kicked the door closed and led the both of them over to the large sectional sofa that dominated the Possible family's living room, Kim never relinquishing her hold on him.

The pair sat in silence for several minutes with Kim weeping intermittently into Ron's shoulder. Then, when he felt that his girlfriend had quieted down, he asked the first thing that came to his mind.

"You want to tell me about it?"

Kim took a deep breath and sighed, unburying her face from Ron's shoulder. She nodded slightly, indicating her agreement, and took a moment to compose herself before starting. By the time she was finished she had recounted the entire story, right down to the last gruesome detail.

"Like wow!" Ron said with a stunned look on his face. "That's some seriously whacked-out stuff."

"Yeah, no doubt." Kim responded, burying her face into her boyfriend once again. "But that's not the worst part."

"Oh really?" Ron asked, clearly confused. "What is?" He dreaded the thought of anything being worse that the scene Kim had just described.

"The worst part," she explained, tensing up and pulling herself tighter against him, "was that they could have done it… They _would_ have done it!" Burying her face ever deeper into Ron's chest she fought back against falling into hysterics once again. Her words came out as anguished sobs, muffled by the material of Ron's pajamas. "Those freaks! They would have… would've…"

"_Shhh, shhhhhhhhh…"_ Ron consoled the sobbing form in front of him, wrapping his arms around her shaking form and holding her close. "But they didn't, did they?"

Kim nodded weakly as her crying began to subside.

"And they wouldn't have." He continued, his voice suddenly taking on a menacing growl, causing Kim to look up in confusion.

"Not while I'm still breathing." He completed. The intensity that flashed through his chocolate brown eyes as he said these words left Kim momentarily stunned. It was the look and sound of a wolf protecting its pack, and she instinctively knew that Ron meant every word of this. As long as he continued to draw breath, he would be her protector. He would defend her against all threats whenever she was unable to defend herself.

The two of them sat in silent darkness for nearly an hour after that, simply holding one another. Within Ron's comforting presence, Kim's breathing slowly returned to normal and she felt herself relax for what seemed like the first time in days. This was a safe haven for her: A place where she could let it all go. As long as Ron was with her, all the aliens and nightmares in the universe couldn't touch her.

And it all came to a crashing halt with six simple words.

"It's late… I probably should go."

Ron's words cut into her like a blade plunging deep into her chest. Sure, he needed his sleep, as did she, but he could be willing to just up and go home. He couldn't leave her, alone in an empty house with nothing but her nightmares for company.

She could feel him moving to stand, and instantly, almost reflexively, she tightened her grasp on him, forcing him back down onto the sofa.

"No Ron… Don't go." She whimpered.

"But it's almost three o'clock." Ron objected, pointing to the digital clock on the DVD player. "I need to get some shuteye… We _both_ do."

"I don't want to be alone tonight." Kim tearfully pleaded. "Please, don't leave me here alone."

Ron sighed in resignation. Once again, his path was clear. It was all so ferociously unusual, and he was sure to catch holy heck if her father ever found out, but his woman needed him right now, and he would be damned if he was going to shirk that duty.

"Okay," he relented, "but we still need our sleep. The world doesn't stop just because you've had a bad dream, after all."

"Yeah, I know." Kim whispered in agreement.

Releasing his girlfriend with one arm, Ron deftly shifted his position to slip that same arm under Kim's knees. Then, with a swift and graceful maneuver that betrayed nothing of his normally clumsy nature, he swept her slender form into a "bridal-carry" and started toward the stairs.

Kim could only close her eyes and purr contentedly as she felt Ron ascending the stairs to her loft, knowing that nothing could keep the remainder of the night from going smoothly. She was with her man, and that was all that mattered, villains of the world be damned.

She could only hope that the scene now playing itself out would be repeated in the not-too-distant future, but under slightly different circumstances.

Completing the climb into the former attic space, Ron wasted no time in getting to the business at hand. He gently laid the smiling form of Kim down on the mattress and slid in beside her, pulling the covers up around both of them. As Kim rolled over onto her side, he pulled himself in behind her and draped a protective arm around her waist. She sighed contentedly and took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers.

"Everything okay over there?" he asked softly.

"It is now." She sighed serenely, sleep now quickly overtaking her.

As her breathing quickly fell into a slow, regular rhythm, Ron knew that she would be good for the rest of the night. His job was done, and that meant that he could turn his attention to other matters: Matters such as his own need for sleep.

As he lay back, feeling himself begin to drift off, he knew that this time would not be the last. There would be other late night phone calls, other personal emergencies that Kim would simply not be able to face alone.

And as long as she needed him, he would be right where he was then: Right by her side.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

In all honesty, I don't know what came over me and possessed me to write this. I suppose a large part of the inspiration came from reading a story called _For the Pride of Lowardia_ by Grandmaster T. It's a pretty dark and disturbing tale, so if you're at all squeamish about these sorts of things, then reader discretion would be advised.

I suppose part of this is just another exploration of Kim and Ron's relationship, but on another level, I think I was trying to explore the nature of human imagination. An imagination is a powerful thing, after all. It can tint memories of the past, shape our perceptions of the present, or paint a future so vivid that it can scarcely be discerned from reality itself. It's something that we all have; yet very few of us ever truly appreciate. It is the hidden power that we all carry.

On a completely unrelated note, there's been some recent development in another one of my stories.

After several strongly-worded reviews, (and a few threatening phone calls), I've started work on a second chapter for _Past Remembrance & Future Promise._ Hopefully it won't take too long to complete, but to keep all of you satisfied in the mean time, I've also made some changes to Chapter One. Several reviewers suggested that I should expand the cast of characters involved with this installment, so I've gone ahead and done just that. The revised chapter should be up and running by the time that this story comes on line, so feel free to bounce on over and check it out!

And so, other than that, it's the usual drill. Read and review, and maybe… just maybe… get a response.

Later gators!

_Nutzkie…_


End file.
